


Ancient Blue Eyes

by Lee Normandeau (Miri_Thompson)



Series: Out of My League [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Spoilers Through Season 10ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri_Thompson/pseuds/Lee%20Normandeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Cas thinks that just because he's millions of years old and has all these angelic powers, he's out of Dean's league? Dean's going to prove him wrong. You know, because of the principle of the thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancient Blue Eyes

“Huh,” Sam says.

We’re all sitting in the bunker at one of the research tables. Sam is staring at something on his laptop screen.

Cas and I look at each other and then at him. “What?” I ask. “You got a case for us?”

“No. Something better.”

I close out the weird version of spider solitaire I’ve been playing on my phone—boring game anyway. “Like what? Come on, Sam. Share with the class.”

He looks up at me and grins. “The best Destiel fic I’ve read in a while.”

My face heats up as I shove my phone back in my pocket. That bastard.  We have never—and I mean NEVER—mentioned the whole Destiel thing in front of Cas. He doesn’t know about that crazy fan shit and he doesn’t need to.

I’m going to kill Sam later. But for now, I’ve got to act all cool and nonchalant, so Cas doesn’t guess that anything’s up.

“Whatever gets you there, man,” I say, as if he were just reading some random porn. “Cas, I’m starving. How about we hit a diner?”

But Cas ignores me. “Which fic is it, Sam?”

“It’s an AU—you know, alternate universe,” Sam says. “Do you read those?”

“Sometimes.”

My mouth drops open. I stare at Cas. “What the—you read this stuff?”

“On occasion.” He cocks his head at me. “Please don’t be upset, Dean.”

I try to hide the fact that I’m about to strangle my little brother. “Did Sam introduce you to these stories?”

“No.” Cas shakes his head. “I’ve always kept an eye on the fiction inspired by the Winchester Gospels.”

“Yup,” Sam agrees. “He was reading this stuff before I was. Cas, I’ll send you the link to this one. It’s actually a pretty cool setting.”

“Thank you.”

I’m still staring at Cas. “So were you planning to mention that you knew about this Destiel crap?”

There’s this weird sympathetic look in Cas’s eyes as he answers. No, strike that. It’s not sympathetic—it’s more like he’s pitying me or something.

“Dean,” he says, “I guessed that the existence of these stories makes you uncomfortable. That’s why I didn’t tell you that I enjoy some of them.”

“You enjoy them?” Okay, my face must be flaming red now. “Cas, please tell me you know these are fictional. I’m not . . . I mean, I would never—”

“I know you wouldn’t, Dean.” His voice is soothing and, I think, a little amused. “And I would never take advantage of you that way. These stories are just that: stories.”

I blink. “Take advantage of me?”

He nods.

“Wait.” My brain has to catch up here. “You think that if I hooked up with you, that would—that would be you taking advantage of me?”

“Of course.”

I give him my best what-the-fuck look.

“Dean, I am millions of years older than you are. And far more powerful. We are not equals. Therefore, I would never exploit you that way.”

I blink again. Wait, what?

Cas stands up. “A diner does sound good. Give me just a moment.” And with that he walks off toward the room he’s taken over.

I turn to Sam, who’s been quiet for a while now. “Did Cas just tell me that he’s out of my league?”

“Um, that’s how I heard it, yeah.”

I turn back to the chair that Cas just abandoned. “Fuck.”

 

~*~

 

I clean up and change for the diner. I wasn’t going to—I mean, it’s just me and Cas going out to grab a bite. But suddenly it seems important to look . . . well, good. I mean, come on. My best friend just told me that I’m not in his fucking league. And, yeah, I don’t want to date him or anything. But it’s the principle of the thing.

But if Cas is impressed, he doesn’t say anything. I don’t think the angel even notices as we walk to the garage. And then he’s too busy climbing into the shotgun seat.

He don’t look too bad himself, though. He’s all right for an angelic dork. If I were looking for some bi action—which I’m not—I could do worse.

“So,” I begin as I pull out onto the road. “You slept with April.”

That catches his attention. “What?”

“You slept with April,” I repeat. “When you thought she was human. How was that not exploiting her?”

He blushes. “I was human myself at the time, Dean. Or at least an angel with no angelic powers.”

I try not to look at him out of the corner of my eye as I make the next right. “But you still thought you were millions of years older than her.”

“A mistaken belief, as it turns out.” His voice is quiet now and a little ashamed. “But you’re right, Dean. I was wrong to seek comfort in her bed. It’s just that I was—I was cold and alone and . . . and only just learning what it meant to be human.”

I turn that over in my brain, ignoring the part about him feeling cold and alone. I’m still angry at myself for not getting to him sooner—but that’s not the point.

“So let me get this straight, Cas. Even if you turned human again—even if you lost all your grace—you think you’d still be out of my league.”

Cas looks confused now. “Dean, are you—do you wish to begin a romance with me?”

“What?” I’m glancing back and forth between him and the road now. “No! Dude, I’m straight.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Why are you looking at me like that, man?”

“I just don’t understand why we’re having this conversation. You say you are straight, and therefore, presumably, you don’t find my vessel attractive.”

“I didn’t say that. I mean, I am straight, but I didn’t say the rest.”

He catches his breath. I think he does, anyway. Unless I’m imagining things. “You—Dean, you do find me attractive?”

“No. I mean—listen, you’re all right looking. There’s nothing wrong with your vessel.” He’s cute, actually, in a dorky way. But I’m not about to tell him that. “Anyway, this isn’t about that. It isn’t even about me being straight. I mean, it is, but . . . well, you know.”

“No, Dean, I don’t know. In fact, I have no idea what we’re talking about right now.” He pauses. “But it doesn’t matter. As an angel, I am far too old and too powerful for you. So why are we dwelling on this?”

“Dwelling? Who’s dwelling? I’m not dwelling.”

“Very well, then.” He sighs. “Should I turn on the radio?”

Oh yeah. How had I forgotten that? I nod. He puts on a classic rock station and we both lapse into silence.

 

~*~

 

“What about Meg?”

Cas is about to take a bite out of his burger. He stops to give me a confused look. “What?”

“What about Meg?” I haven’t even looked at my burger yet. “She sure as hell wanted to get into your pants. And I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual.”

That draws another blush out of him. “I—we, uh, did like each other.”

“Uh-huh. I know she was a demon, Cas. But, at the end of the day, that’s just a seriously fucked up human who’s spent too much time in hell. You were still more powerful and still millions of years older.”

Cas takes a deep breath. “Meg and I never had sexual intercourse. We never did more than kiss, and that was only that one time.”

His voice is weirdly flat. Okay, okay.  I feel a stab of guilt for bringing her up. “I’m sorry, man. Do you miss her?”

“Yes. I do.”

I should stop now. This isn’t fair to him. I shouldn’t be bringing up a girl he lost.

Granted, I hated her . . . except that I didn’t, really. She did end up fighting—and dying—on our side. And I think she was legitimately into Cas. I think, maybe, she really loved him. Well, as much as she was capable of loving anyone.

“Did you want to sleep with her?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“At times. But when we had the opportunity . . . I was not myself.”

No, he was batshit crazy back then. But I don’t say that.

“She did not take advantage of me in that state.” His voice is still flat. And, unless I’m misreading him, kind of regretful.

I sigh as I stare at him from across the table. “To be honest, Cas, I thought she might. I didn’t think she’d hurt you, but—look, Sam and I couldn’t take you with us. We had no way to protect you. So sex with Meg, even if you weren’t exactly able to give consent, seemed like a reasonable risk.”

Cas doesn’t say anything.

“Are you angry? Now that you’re all concerned about exploitation?”

“No, I’m not angry. She turned out to be an excellent caretaker. Are you going to eat your burger?”

That’s the end of that conversation, I guess. I pick up my burger and chomp down on it.

 

~*~

 

I am way off my game tonight. I should have Cas eating out of my hand by now. I should have him begging to date me. Instead, I keep bringing up his dead girlfriends. Awesome job, Dean.

Okay, no more talk about old flames. And no point in heading back to the bunker. I want to set things straight tonight. I can’t give him the opportunity to disappear into his room until we do.

I change lanes and make a left hand turn.

Cas notices. “This isn’t the way back to the bunker.”

“No,” I agree.

“Where are we going?”

“Stargazing.”

“Stargazing?”

“Yup.”

“I—I would like that very much.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. And eager. “Thank you, Dean.”

I toss a smile his way. “I aim to please.”

He gives me this cute little uncertain smile back.

~*~

 

An hour later, we’re both sitting on top of Baby, staring up at the night sky. It’s perfect. Miles from civilization. No clouds and the moon is new, so there’s nothing to drown out the starlight.

I’m mellow now, content to look up at the open, boundless Kansas sky like it’s an old friend. But Cas has this—this exalted expression as he stares up. Once in a while he even mutters something in Enochian. Names, I realize. Maybe he knows each of these stars. Maybe he even remembers when they were born.

“Damn. We really are in different places, aren’t we?”

He turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “We are both right here, Dean.”

I grunt at that. How’d I forget how literal-minded he is? “No, I mean—you really have been around for millions of years. You’re really . . . you have all these amazing memories and experiences that I know nothing about. No wonder you think you’re out of my league.”

He stays quiet at that. Maybe he’s just amazed that it’s taken me so long to catch up to the truth. I always treat him like—I don’t know. Like a sort of dorky sidekick that I need to explain things to. Meanwhile he really is this powerful being who can’t even show me his true form, because just catching a glimpse of it would burn my eyes out.

I shift a little. Not to get up, but to get more comfortable. “What are you thinking now, Cas?”

“I’m, uh—I’m wishing that my wings were still functional. I wish I could spread them out, and let one of them cover you.”

“Oh.” The thought of that sends a weird shiver down my spine. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. “Uh, Cas, have you ever done that before?”

“Many times.” His voice is soft now. “I used to enfold you in my wings whenever you hugged me, or allowed me to hug you. Or sometimes when we just stood close, until you would start reminding me about personal space. Or sometimes . . . well, when I used to watch you sleep.”

“I—oh.”

He shrugs. “I was never trying to be creepy when I watched over you at night, Dean. It just—it seemed to ease your nightmares.”

“Maybe it did.” I reach over and put a hand on his shoulder. “But it’s still a little creepy, dude.”

Cas looks all apologetic until he catches my expression. Then he relaxes. “Oh. You’re teasing.”

I rub his shoulder a bit.  “Yeah.”

His face turns red. I can tell that even in the starlight. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Hey.” I keep my voice gentle. He can still be weirdly skittish sometimes. “What’s wrong, Cas?”

He turns his head to stare at me. “There’s something I need to tell you. About one of the Destiel stories I read.”

“Um, Cas, we don’t have to talk about those—”

“Please, Dean.” His voice is serious.

“Okay. What’s this about?”

“In this particular story, I was, ah, heartsick with love for you. Sam—the story Sam, I mean—took pity on me and came up with a way for me to pique your interest.”

“Um, all right. So what was the plan?”

He swallows. “He told me that I should pretend to be above a romance with you, because of my age and angelic powers. That I should tell you that I would never exploit you in that way. That I should pretend to be, ah—”

“Out of my league?”

He turns just about scarlet. “If that means what I think it does, yes.” He pauses again—for a deep breath this time. “But I am no such thing. I may be millions of years older than you, but for most of those years I was blindly obedient. I’ve only been myself since . . . well, since I’ve known you.”

I feel this weird little smile tugging at my lips. “What about all your angelic powers?”

“There is, arguably, an imbalance of power between us. But as you once reminded me, you and Sam have taken down some big fish.”

I snort. “Yeah. So you wanted to pique my interest, huh?”

“I . . . yes.”       

“I thought you were into women.”

“I’m not ‘into’ a specific gender, Dean.” His voice is suddenly gruffer than usual. “Angels are not . . . gendered the way humans are.”

“Okay.” I turn that over in my brain. “I guess that makes this whole thing a little less awkward. But, dude—if you really do have a crush on me, why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“You identify as straight. And I have a male vessel. I thought a more extreme measure was called for.”

“Fuck, Cas.” I give his shoulder a light punch. “Not coming to me about stuff—that’s what gets you into trouble, remember?”

He looks back up at the stars. “Would you say yes?”

“I don’t know. You’re going to have to put yourself out there to find out, man.”

“Dean, would you go out on a date with me?” He doesn’t look at me as he asks. He’s too embarrassed. And probably dreading my answer.

And that’s kind of cute.

Still, there’s a part of me that says I should let him down easy. Right now. But . . . I don’t want to let him down. I mean, I don’t want to hurt him, but it’s more than that.

He’s got no gender. So dating him—it wouldn’t be like dating another guy, exactly. And, okay, maybe dating another guy wouldn’t be all that bad anyway. I mean, this is fucking 2015, right? It’s okay to be a little . . . well, heteroflexible now.

Besides, I think I might be a little into this awkward, dorky, crazy-powerful, crazy-old angel.

“Okay,” I answer.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. We can go on a date. See how things go. But let’s make a promise to each other, okay?”

He stiffens up at that—promises mean a lot to angels, I think. “What sort of promise?”

“Let’s promise to take things slow. And, whatever happens, let’s not wreck a good friendship.”

“Our friendship is invaluable to me, Dean.”

“Me too. And now you got to be honest with me about something.”

“Dean, I have confessed everything—”

I cut him off. “Did real Sam—our Sam, I mean—put you up to this? This whole out-of-my-league thing?”

More blushing. “He, ah, endorsed the idea when I shared the story with him.”

“Of course he did.”

“Are you angry, Dean?”

“No.” But I sigh, knowing this calls for revenge.

That can wait, though. For now, it’s enough to lie here on top of Baby, staring up at the Kansas sky.

“Tell me about some of these stars, Cas.”

He looks adorably eager to please. “What do you want to know?”

I shrug. “Tell me their names. Not scientific ones—the names you know them by.”

He does. And he tells me about each one of them as he names them. I relax, letting myself get lost in his monotone. And for a little while, at least, I kind of see the world through a pair of ancient blue eyes.

 

-The End-

 

_Thank you for reading! Feel free to visit me on[ **Tumblr**](http://authorintransit.tumblr.com/)._


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